


Thou Mayest

by cat_huple



Category: Tegan and Sara (Band)
Genre: 1900s farm girls au, F/F, Sort Of, quincest, they don't stay on the farm very long
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:29:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24740815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cat_huple/pseuds/cat_huple
Summary: Sara faces the struggles of growing pains.
Relationships: Sara Quin/Tegan Quin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 20





	1. Chapter 1

There is something strange about the way Tegan likes to fiddle with her hunting knife. Holding the blade with her pointer finger and thumb like dangling a lizard by the tail. She watches the way the sun reflects off the knife, beams of light bouncing onto the forest floor, and grows impatient. 

“It’s not a toy,” she snaps, self consciously gripping onto her own which is safely sheathed. 

Tegan just eyes her for a moment, giving her that innocent look before she sheathes her own. Tegan can be too innocent at times, watching the sunlight flare from the blade like she’s still a little kid. That’s why despite them being the same age, despite being twins, she’s the one who’s babied. Sara will often feign sleep in their shared bed, and listen to her mother whisper softly into Tegan’s ear, hear her scratch her head over her mane of unruly hair. Sara will wonder how come Tegan got all the soft parts, all the innocent ones. 

She restrung the bow with diligent focus, her calloused fingers working on the sharp string as she tied it.

“Do you want to trade arrows?” Sara asked, looking to her sister.

“Trade arrows? Why?” 

“Maybe we’ll have a change in luck.”

Sara was feeling frustrated with how she couldn’t seem to focus, her arrows missing game every time.

“I haven’t caught anything either,” Tegan pointed out, still surveying her surroundings, her eyes trying to see beyond the dense green of the forest. 

“Let’s just do it. You always say I make better arrows.”

Tegan shrugged, taking her quiver off and trading with Sara. She didn’t know what went on in Sara’s head, but it was usually better just to go along with her whims.

Carefully, their soft leather shoes stepped around leaves and branches as they snuck deeper into the forest. Tegan was supposed to pay attention to the world around her but her eyes were focused on Sara’s back where her quiver hung, long brown hair underneath. Tegan moved a strand of her own long hair away from her face, stopping when Sara stopped. 

“Shh,” She urged, beckoning Tegan to come near her. Side by side. 

Sara pointed, showing Tegan where she had spotted the squirrel that was pacing on a tree branch. Tegan scooted over when Sara pulled an arrow out of the quiver, recognizing the colorful turkey feather at the end. It was the feather Tegan was given by their father on thanksgiving. She had been saving that arrow, and Sara knew that. Tegan bit her tongue, watching Sara pull back the string, the muscles in Sara’s neck going tense, her eyes squinted in extreme focus. Tegan keeps her eyes on Sara, watching as she releases the string in one steady flick of her fingers, watches the arrow fly past her face, both listening to the seconds of static silence until a resounding _chkk!_ echoes through the forest. Sara’s cold serious expression melts into an elated smile. Tegan knows she hit her target. 

Without a word Sara makes her way to her dead prey, Tegan sulkily following along. The squirrel is laying on the grass, lifeless as it stares up into nothing. The arrow pierced right through its belly, the feather sticking up. Sara took hold of one of its hind legs, proudly displaying it to her sister.

“See?” Sara said slyly. “Switching worked.”

Tegan gently grabbed the back of the arrow, her fingers smoothing over the feather. “You used the arrow I was saving.”

Sara looked. “Oh. I guess I did.” Though the smile on her face wouldn’t leave. 

She wrapped it in cloth, shoving it in her satchel. 

“Let’s go back.”

Tegan followed her. The walk was in relative silence, except for when Sara would shoot these brief glances Tegan’s way. She knew Tegan had been saving that arrow. Sara remembered the jealousy she felt, watching their father hand the feather to Tegan. For some reason she had wanted to see that look of betrayal on her sister’s face, but the excitement of seeing it subdued, leaving her longing for Tegan’s smile and approval once more. 

“Just take the feather off and put it on a different arrow.” 

“That wasn’t the point.”

“Well, you should have stopped me.”

“Would you have stopped if I asked?”

Sara ignores her. “How about this?” She asks, stopping them, taking hold of Tegan’s shoulder. “I’ll just give you the squirrel, and you can give it to father as a gift. Just tell him you used the arrow.”

“That won’t make me feel better,” Tegan said. “It’s a lie.” 

“Come on,” Sara urged, “It’ll make him happy.” She was already pressing the pouch into Tegan’s chest until she had no choice but to grab it. “That arrow was a gift from him, then to me, and now it’s yours again.”

Tegan held the sack the entire way back to the house, but she couldn’t stop her sulking. She followed Sara through the front door, but both girls startled when their mother was standing in the living room, her arms crossed, obviously waiting for them. 

“Girls,” She greeted.

The sisters traded weary looks before regarding their mother. “Ma’am,” Both murmured. 

“You’re home late, it’s almost dark out.”

“We were hunting,” Tegan said. 

“Yes, but you know to get home before supper. Look at you two, your clothes are a mess.”

Sonia took hold of Sara’s shirt collar, shaking her head at the dirt that scuffed it. 

“Tegan caught a rabbit,” Sara suddenly said, making her sister shoot her a vicious look. “For father,” She added, ignoring her sister.

“Oh?” Sonia asked to see the bag, having Tegan reluctantly hand over the satchel. She peeked inside. “This is a good catch, Tegan. I’m sure your father will love it.”

Tegan restrained herself from rolling her eyes, shame digging into her. How did Sara not understand how humiliated she felt then?

“I’ll skin this, why you two go bathe.”

She waved away their protests, already heading to the kitchen. “Be hasty, and you better change into fresh clothes!” 

They groaned on the way to the bathroom. Tegan turned on the bathtub, making sure the water was warm enough to melt away all the grime on their bodies. Mindlessly she watched the tub fill, idly playing with the water. She watched Sara sit on the edge of the tub, looking at Tegan with a cold expression. 

“Why the long face?”

“Sometimes you can be so mean.”

“I thought I was being nice.”

“I doubt it.”

Sara frowned. She really was trying to be nice, but she knew she couldn’t convince Tegan of that. It’s these moments when Tegan thinks of her like a monster that she really wants to act like one. 

She strips out of her clothes, slipping into the tub and sitting at the end. Tegan avoided her gaze, stripping her own clothes and getting in, her back to her sister.

“What, you’re gonna sulk some more?”

Tegan shrugged, gathering some water in her hands and splashing it over her face. Sara fumed while watching her sister’s back flex and twitch as she went about the process of washing herself. 

“Let me at least get your hair and stuff,” Sara said, already gathering water in a mug. 

Tegan didn’t protest, only sat still, her knees up to her chest and her head tilted back. Sara washed her hair, wetting it and running her fingers through it and brushing all the tangles out. 

“Being kinda rough,” Tegan said. 

Their bodies were changing, Sara noticed how their flat chests began to poke out, how their skinny waists started to widen out, how their stick limbs became softer. It was like turning thirteen was the time their bodies decided to become adults. She watched the droplets of water stream down Tegan’s tan skin and felt the need to pinch her or something. 

Her hand settled on her sister’s shoulder, feeling the bare skin and the twitching muscle under tan skin. 

“What?” Tegan asked a little defensively when Sara wouldn’t move her hand.

Sara shook out of her stupor, instincts forcing her to pinch the girl's shoulder and hearing the surprised yelp which gave her a rush of amusement.

Tegan escaped her with a gasp. “Gosh,” she mumbled, rubbing where Sara had pinched. 

It’s at the dinner table where Tegan sulks the most, guiltily eyeing her father eating the now cooked rabbit. “Delicious,” He assures her, smiling up from his plate. “The fur will make a great hat as well.”

Sara wishes her sister would be a little more grateful for her help rather than staring at her stew like a wounded puppy. 

It’s one day when she hears a startling crack and groan on the gravel outside. She jumps to the window to see the strangest wagon rolling to the front of the house, sputtering on with a loud cracking noise.

“What’s that?” Tegan asked in awe.

Stephen peaks over their shoulders. “An automobile,” he mutters to himself. “How odd.”

“That’s right,” their mother says, coming to place her hands on the girls' shoulders. “You’ve never seen one before have you?”

The girls watch in stunned silence as the bulky thing stops, the bug-eyed lights going dim and people getting out. A man and a woman and a little girl. The man waves when he sees them from the house, and Stephen goes to greet the strangers. 

“What do they want?” Sara asks.

“I’m not sure but it looks like your father is inviting them in so do be nice.”

“That girl looks our age,” Tegan says.

When Stephen comes in, the family is right behind him. “Looks like a storm is coming, and those automobiles don’t do very well in the rain. Honey, would you put on a pot of coffee?”

Sonia goes to do as requested as everyone begins to introduce themselves. Sara can’t remember the last time the house had visitors. Sometimes a man that turns hay into bales miles and miles away will come over once in a while and share a glass of whiskey with her father, but that’s it. She doesn't catch the strangers' names, as she’s too busy being in awe of them and their slick sloths and their fancy way of talking, but she does hear it when the girl introduces herself, a soft girlish voice that slips out from underneath the bonnet she wears. 

“Emy.” She says when she’s told by her mother to introduce herself. 

Emy has brown curls hidden under her hat, and pink rosy cheeks softly sprinkled with freckles barely there. Sara already sees Emy and them as different. She’s soft and fragile looking whereas herself and Tegan are sharp, their fingers calloused. She wants to see what Emy’s fingers look like underneath soft white leather gloves, compares her white skin to her tanned. It’s the first time that Sara has really put that much thought into her appearance. She wonders about the baggy clothes, her frizzy hair. In a way, she becomes embarrassed in the girl’s presence, like she’s not somehow right. Tegan doesn't seem to have the same problem and smiles at the girl, waving her over.

“Do you want to see our bow and arrows?” She asks.

The girl shrugs, looking over to her parents who have sat on the couch and become immersed in conversation.

“Sure,” she says sweetly, and Sara wants to tell Tegan not to bother, that this girl is not like them.

“Come on Sara,” Tegan waves her over, but Sara is hesitant.

She ends up following them to their room only so she can watch over Tegan and make sure she won’t make a fool of herself. 

Tegan shows off her bow, and Emy entertains her with attention but Sara can tell that she’s barely interested. “We made them ourselves. I can make one for you too if you want.” She pulls the taut string back and shoots an invisible arrow.

Instead of answering, Emy looks between them, a strange look on her face.

“You two look just like each other.”

“We’re twins,” Tegan says matter of factly.

Sara grumbles inside. 

“Can you feel each other's pain and such?” She asks, suddenly very interested, her eyes lighting up.

“No way,” Tegan laughs. 

Emy hums. “I read about twins in school. You were split in half. How odd, you used to be one person in your mommy’s tummy but now you’re two.”

The sisters looked at each other. 

“You go to school?” Tegan eventually asks, her eyes still hovering over Sara. 

“Yes. Every day of the week, but not on weekends. You two don’t go to school?”

Another shared look. Sara felt like she was ruining expectations or failing a test of some sort. “No.”

“How do you two learn anything?”

“Our mother tells us a lot of interesting things,” Answers Tegan, still fiddling with the bow. “Sometimes pa too.”

“I’m leaving,” Sara grumbles.

“Why, where are you going?” Tegan asks, startled by the fact she’s being left alone.

Sara doesn't answer, instead, she walks to the living room, being careful not to alert the adults of her presence, sticking close to the wall, listening.

“Have you ever thought about moving to Salinas, Stephen? With the money you’ve saved up you could start a nice life there, ya know. So many advancements in technology and industry are happening in the city after all.”

“No,” Stephen laughed. “We’re happy where we're at. I’ve always tended to the land. I’ve always had a dream to have a farm ever since I was raised on one.”

“Well it’s not out of the question,” Sonia said, her voice cheery enough, but something off, like a warning almost. “It would be wonderful to live in the city. Or even have an automobile for that matter. They’re very practical. Truth be told, this land is not the most fertile. We’ve been having some trouble cultivating it.”

“Ah yes,” The man said. “The valley isn’t the easiest to tame. Well, you know if it doesn't work out Stephen, you could come by the city and discuss some opportunities with me.” 

Stephen didn’t say anything just nodded while taking a sip of his coffee. 

When the family left, there was a quiet hanging over their heads. It wasn’t until dinner that their parents began talking again, but it soon changed tides and became an argument. Their mother was not happy here anymore, she wanted to be out in the world. And Sara also began to wonder more about the world, how big and endless it seemed how strange the city sounded, and how she and Tegan would fit in such a place. 

She looked at Tegan differently ever since Emy had come over. She saw her as the half that left her, the good part of her, and she truly did feel robbed, like she could have been a whole person, a good person, but there Tegan was reminding her she wasn’t.

Things started to change. Sara’s not sure what the changes are but it had to be something, like looking into the mirror and feeling like you’re different now but can’t point out how.

“Mamma?” She says once, coming to sit on the couch while her mother is reading a book. She sneaks a peek at the cover, not recognizing the title. 

“What is it darling?”

“I feel different,” Sara murmured. “Not just look different I just feel...I don’t know, I can’t explain it.”

Her mother shot her a coy smile, setting her book down and moving close by. Sara’s chin was taken as her face was held, her mother’s palms soft and pads of her fingers calloused. Her eyes twinkled as she looked Sara in the eye. “It’s because you’re becoming a woman,” She said in soft certainty. 

Her stomach fell, and a strange feeling bloomed in her chest. To be a woman...she barely knew what that meant. It meant she was going to be different, that Tegan was going to be different. But her mother looked so elated, and she didn’t want to disappoint her. 

“What’s it going to be like?”

“Well, it’s going to hurt sometimes, and it’s going to feel strange but you’ll settle into yourself eventually. Growing up is such a wonderful thing, we shouldn’t fear it.”

But, Sara does fear it. 

It’s one warm night where Sara is woken from her slumber when Tegan is gently shaking her into consciousness. 

“Tegan?” Sara asked, blurry eyes and drowsy. She heard the all too familiar sniffling before she actually saw the tears streaming down Tegan’s cheeks. “What’s wrong?”

“I-I'm-” She choked on a pathetic whine. “I’m bleeding.”

“Bleeding?” She sat up on the bed looking at her sister confused. 

Tegan slightly turned around, pulling her light nightgown away from her body to show off the blood speckled fabric. 

“Oh.” Recognition clicked and Sara sat up even straighter. “Your uh…”

More whines. “What do I do?”

“Go get mother,” Sara hissed, feeling slightly distressed at seeing her sister so uncomfortable.

“I don’t want to wake her. Sara, please.”

It wasn’t often she heard Tegan beg. The girl never trusted her enough to do so. It felt like a rare opportunity to show her sister that she could be dependable, be a good person. 

Getting out of bed, she took Tegan by the arm. “Come on,” She whispered, pulling her out of the room and into the hall’s bathroom. 

She instructs Tegan to sit on the edge of the tub as she rifles through the cabinet, pulling out a basket with the towels her mother told her about. Tegan changes her underwear, her lanky legs stepping into the fresh pair one foot at a time. 

“Just wear these until it’s over and make sure to wash properly.”

Tegan nods her head through a sniffle. 

“What’s the matter? Does it hurt?”

“No,” Tegan murmurs.

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know.” Tegan is sitting in just her plain bloomer shorts, the nightgown discarded on the floor. She stares at her feet, her hands holding onto the tub as if her life depended on it. “I guess I just don’t want to grow up.”

Sara frowns, wondering when it’ll be her time to grow up as well.

It’s one day while they are bathing themselves in the creek after a frustrating hunt. Empty-handed and tired from another grueling physical fight. A stupid fight where Tegan had been whiny and dragged her feet until Sara was beyond annoyed. They're covered in dirt, and trickles of blood drip from scraps on their arms and legs.

Sara hasn’t seen Tegan naked in a while. They used to run around in just their cotton shorts, arrows slung over their shoulder, the string tight against their bare chests, but as summer is ending, Sara sees her chest swelling, feels it and she hides it, cloaking herself in baggy blouses. Tegan does the same and they don’t talk about it, but both know that they’re hiding. 

Tegan is on the cusp of womanhood, as is she. She feels stunned that Tegan is not that scrawny stick who hid away from her touch in the tub. It had only been a few months ago. Her hair almost covers her, but not quite, and Sara watches her scrub the dirt off. She looks down at her own body, realizing with irritation that it’s similar to Tegan’s. She hates the curves, the delicate way she feels. She pinches her soft tummy so hard she bites her tongue so she won't make a peep. 

“Look at me,” She suddenly says. 

Tegan turns to her, curious and still a little mad. “What?”

Sara swifts through the cold water, her toes digging over the pebbles. “Look at me.”

“I… I am,” Tegan mutters, her eyes jumping from her sister’s feet to her eyes. 

“No, really look at me. Tell me what I look like.” 

Tegan finishes twisting the water from her hair. “I don’t know what you want me to say. You look like me.”

Rage swirls in her and she gets in front of Tegan, hating how her sister can barely face her. “There has to be something different,” She says, desperate. 

She grabbed Tegan's hands ignoring the startled look and pressed her sister’s fidgety hands onto her body. 

“S-Sara what-“

“Tell me what’s different about my body. Find one please.” 

Tegan tries to move her hands away but Sara tugs on them harshly. “Please.” She pleads, something she has never done in front of Tegan.

Tegan frowns, looking at her hands, her wrists held in Sara’s grasp, her fingers crumpled up into stubborn fists against her sister’s lush chest. When her fingers do reach out, it’s tentative and nervous and despite Sara’s insistence, she gets nervous too. 

Tegan touches her like she’s broken glass, barely pressing and much too careful. She almost recoils out of her body when Tegan holds her breasts gently in each hand, looking Sara in the eye.

“Y-yours are a little smaller I think.”

“Really?” Sara asks, breathy. She can’t see that much of a difference but Tegan knows her own body. 

Next, her waist is fondled, her hips, Tegan even is bold enough to grab her backside, but only for a moment. There’s static with Tegan’s touch. Sara forgets about the cold creek at their feet and only focuses on her sister’s warm hands. 

“Well?” Sara asks, not liking how strange her voice sounds. It’s almost as if she’s out of breath. “Anything else?”

“You're thinner. Here” and her hands are back on her waist. “Just a little bit.” 

Sara wants to say keep touching, but she can’t find her voice. And when it finally does come it’s gravelly and almost urgent. “Okay, stop.” And Tegan does. 

“Is it really so bad to look like me?” Tegan asks. 

Sara tried to get used to the feeling of her body once again, how it does not have Tegan’s hands on her anymore. She looks away from her sister to the flowing water. “I don’t know,” she says.

After that Sara keeps thinking about how things keep shifting, how different every day feels. Their parents who fight every night no matter how much they try to hide it, their changing bodies, how Sara tries hard to recognize herself in the mirror now, how Sara feels about Tegan, how the need to protect her, to tease her, to fight her is all blending together in one confusing mess of want. She just wants Tegan to like her, wants Tegan safe, wants… well, she doesn't really know what exactly she wants. 

Things are becoming confusing. The only logical thing for them to do is stick together, no matter what. 

Sara leads Tegan to the shed one day, closing the door so only a slither of light shone in the dark space. Tegan’s eyes traced all the rusty blades that leaned against the wood of the shed, the saws that were protected by grey cobwebs, the scythe in the corner, its blade almost as long as the staff holding it. She hated the shed. Anytime her father asked for a tool from there, she would run in as fast as she could, fleeing before she could swallow any of the dust. 

Sara smiled, seeing how Tegan was quietly waiting for her, being obedient. 

“Let’s make a pact alright?”

“A pact?”

Sara unsheathed her knife, handling it close to her body, the silver shine of the knife reflected the sun so that it was like a handle with light for a blade. 

“A pact to stick together. No matter what. Now more than ever we need each other's protection.”

Tegan watched stunned as Sara gritted her teeth, taking her long mane, garnering it up in a fist, and striking the knife down on her hair, chopping at it with brutal ferocity. Tears dropped down Sara’s face as she attacked the long thick hair and Tegan jumped to her sister’s side, grabbing hold of the hand with the knife.

“Sara what are you doing!?” She demanded. 

“We need to lose something in solidarity. This is proof of our pact.” The words are hard to utter without shuddering. 

“Okay, okay. Let me help.”

She held Sara's hair, wrapping it around her hand and holding it tight. With a heavy breath, she took the knife to her sister’s hair, and carefully tried to cut at it in sections so it wouldn’t hurt as much, though Sara still quietly whimpered with each strike of the blade. 

“This looks awful,” Tegan said, referring to the pain Sara seemed to be in.

“It’s okay,” She mumbled. “I can take it.” 

Passively, she watched the strands of hair fall by her feet, gather up in a big pile. It hurts, it really does no matter how gentle Tegan is. Relief passes through her when Tegan tells her she’s done.

“How does it look?” She asks softly. 

Tegan giggles, running a hand through Sara’s new choppy mane. “It’s alright. Ma is gonna be really mad probably.”

“It doesn't matter,” And then, “Your turn.”

Tegan grits her teeth as Sara tears into her thick hair with the knife. She can’t stop wincing and does her best not to whine too much, but it’s a losing battle.

“Hush,” Sara murmurs, her voice soft compared to how rough the knife pulls at her scalp. 

When the pain stops, Sara is rubbing her shoulders comfortingly, and Tegan falls into the touch. 

“You okay?” She’s asked.

“Yeah.” Her voice can’t hide the fact that she was crying, but Sara doesn't seem mad. She turns Tegan around, her fingers wiping away at the loose strands that fell onto her face. 

“Good job,” Sara compliments. “You were really tough.” Tegan blushes at the compliment, feeling the last of her tears drip down her face. “No matter what changes, no matter what the world throws at us, we have to look out for each other, okay?”

Tegan nods and Sara smiles at her pink cheeks and nose, at her uneven choppy hair. She’s going to do her best for Tegan, but deep down she knows she needs Tegan just as much as Tegan needs her. They have to balance each other out. 

Tegan wipes at her flushed face, her eyes all shiny and bright. 

“Okay?” Sara asks.

“Mhm,” She sniffles.

That night in bed, Tegan breathing quietly next to her, Sara feels like maybe if she tries hard enough, she can be good. Good enough for Tegan. Going to sleep, she really believes she can do it. 


	2. Chapter 2

Tegan started to wonder about Sara. 

Her sister was always odd. She had noticed that despite being twins, despite how they were supposed to be the same, Sara acted completely different. She would argue back with mother and father; something Tegan would never dream of, talkback, and even laugh when they got angry at her. Tegan could only watch those situations in awe, thinking of how fearless she was. How tough. 

But while there were parts she admired, there were parts she didn’t particularly like. Maybe even scared of. She didn’t like how Sara teased her all the time, how she tried to get Tegan to fight her. Tegan always tried not to, knowing her sister was just trying to get her into trouble by getting her to throw punches, but sometimes Sara made her so mad her blood boiled. They would roll around in the sticks and dirt, and at the end of it all, despite being bruised, Sara would smile, like she had planned this all along. Tegan was getting better at avoiding that kind of thing though. 

She especially didn’t like it when Sara was nice afterward. Tegan could only curl up and ignore her while Sara tried to make up for whatever annoying thing she had done. She was tired of getting duped by her all the time. 

So, Sara was mean sometimes, but Tegan liked her well enough. When Sara wasn’t acting so awful, she would protect Tegan, tell her interesting things she had thought about, share her marbles or random books she would find while exploring the old house. Her mother had once told her that Sara ‘acted out’ and needed her big sister, but most of the time Tegan felt like she needed Sara more. So because of that, she never told their parents about the pranks Sara would pull. She quietly endured. 

But, after they turned thirteen, Sara started to go quiet. 

She didn’t notice at first because Sara more or less acted the same, but something was off. Normally she would fight back against their parents, say something rude but maybe a little funny. She kept her mouth shut and listened passively, her eyes looking somewhere far off. She didn’t torment Tegan all that much, though sometimes she would. The only difference now was that she didn’t seem to get the same kind of enjoyment out of it. It didn’t feel like playing anymore but actual fights. 

She always wanted to ask what was wrong but could never find her voice. 

When she was brought to the storage shed, she thought Sara’s pact was just another stupid prank, but the girl had chopped her hair off, had cried. So like always she followed along.

Of course, their mother was angry. 

“What have you two done?” She had kept demanding, her fingers frantically playing with their freshly cut manes. “Who’s idea was this?” 

Tegan had been bashful and quiet, trying not to get Sara in trouble, and when neither of them would fess up, she just blew her breath, staring down at them, hands on her hips. “You two are gonna run me up a wall one of these days.”

Both were dragged onto stools, their mother fussing over them with a pair of scissors, muttering over them while she worked. “You look like a couple of ragdolls.”

Sara was happy to be in trouble because this time Tegan was in trouble with her, and over their mother’s shoulder Sara smiled, almost bashfully, and Tegan smiled back. Both holding in laughter as their mother nagged them. 

While Sonia was cutting Sara’s hair, she grew quiet. So quiet that all that could be heard was the great grandfather clock in the living area. _Tck, Tck, Tck…_ Sara closed her eyes, listening intently until her mother spoke up once more. 

“Sara, do you know why God wants girls to have long hair?”

Sara opened her eyes, looking down at her feet nestled over the stool’s bars. When she didn’t say anything Sonia said, “Tegan, do you?”

Tegan only shook her head. 

“It is your glory and gift from God to have long hair. Chopping it off so recklessly...You better pray tonight.”

“Yes ma’am,” Both girls mumbled. 

Sara didn’t care. If her long hair was a gift, it was a gift she rejected. She just worried about Tegan who was probably rolling in guilt at their mother’s words. That’s okay, Sara would convince her that what they did was important and good. In Sara’s eyes it was necessary. 

“There,” Their mother said. “All done.”

Sara looked over at Tegan, her eyes widening at seeing her sister with such short hair, almost like their father’s. She felt her own, feeling how short it was, how it was cut more gracefully than their knife job. 

“Well, that’s better. Now it’ll grow nice and even.”

They had to sweep up the hair, but Sara couldn’t find herself mad. Her head felt much lighter. 

Days passed, and weeks, and things were as normal as always. They helped their mother with the house chores, helped their father pick the weeds that bloomed around the grass, brought him his lunch while he was busing tending to the land. That world Sara pondered about, the big city, seemed to slip away. That is until one night when she was woken up by harsh whispers. 

Bleary-eyed, she sat up, rubbing at her face and listening intently. She listened, and there it was, those murmurs from beyond their door, her mother and father talking quietly, yet a harsh undertone to their words. She strained her ears, not quite knowing what they were saying but it sounded heated. 

“They’ve been arguing for an hour now.”

Sara turned to her sister who was hidden in the dark by her side. “About what?” she asked. 

“I can’t really tell.” Tegan sounded strange, unexpressive.

“You’ve been up for that long?”

“I can’t sleep.”

Sara thought about that before lying back down, snuggling into the blankets. “I think mom doesn't want to be here anymore.”

Tegan didn't say anything. 

“I wonder if she’s going to leave father,” Sara pondered, almost to herself. “Would you rather be with father or mother?”

“Stop it,” Tegan said. “I don’t want to think about that.” 

“If mother leaves, and I want to leave too, would you come with me?”

She can’t see Tegan’s expression in the dark, can only see her turn away from her. Being ignored is making her restless, agitated. Tegan has been doing that lately, ignoring her. 

“Well?” She demands. 

“What if I don’t want to leave? Would you stay with me?” Tegan challenges.

“I asked first.” 

“Mama’s not leaving so you can just forget about silly questions like that.”

“Oh? Why are you so sure?”

“Father wouldn’t let her.”

Sara leaned close to Tegan. “Let her? She’s allowed to do what she wants.”

Again, Tegan was quiet. 

“You don’t want to see a world beyond this farm?” Sara asked. 

“I want ma and pa to be happy.” 

Sara scoffed, falling back to her side. Tegan was a child, a _real_ child. 

“What’s the big deal?” Tegan asked. “Do you want to leave that badly?”

“It’s not about that.”

“Then what’s it about?”

“I just want to know that if I were to leave, you would leave with me.”

Sara could've sworn Tegan was half asleep with the way she kept drifting off. After a few moonlight soaked moments, she asked, “You honestly want me by your side?” 

It was so hushed that Sara barely heard it. 

Sara wished she could see her sister’s expression, flip her over so she could see, but she willed her hands to stay still. “Yes,” she said.

“You like me that much?”

Sara thought about this. Of course she liked Tegan, she was her sister. “Well, we made a pact right? Shouldn’t we be together?” 

Tegan turned around then, facing Sara, her expression more clear. Sara schooled her features just in case Tegan could see her just as clearly. 

“I would only go if you told me that you actually liked me. Not because we’re twins, not because we’re in a pact, but because you like being with me.” 

Sara bit her lip, fighting off a frown. All of a sudden Tegan was demanding things from her? 

“Just wait,” Sara said, her voice harsh yet stoic. “You’re gonna want me around no matter where you are.” 

Tegan’s eyes narrowed, and she turned away from Sara again, ending the conversation. Sara watched her sister’s back with regret and confusion all at once. Something was living inside her, eating up all the nice words she had for Tegan and instead, spitting out venom. There was a satisfying feeling to it, to making sure Tegan knew her place, but as she watched Tegan’s shoulders tremble, just a little, there was that shame that took over. 

Tegan was crying, she could tell, or trying to hold it in. But she wouldn’t take anything back. She closed her eyes, the distant sound of their parents arguing still there. 

Tegan was distant after that. She was always a little off, a little in her head, but she would never give Sara the cold shoulder, at least not for long. 

It was a peaceful night, the sun had just settled beneath the hills and valley, and the house was lighted with an orange glow, warm and quiet. Supper had been finished and Sonia and her children were in the living room, Tegan and Sara listening intently to their mother read while their father was off in his study, doing whatever it is he did in his solitude. 

Bible study wasn’t Sara’s favorite. A Lot of the stories her mother told were confusing and often frightening. But she reread their favorite parts when they were done with study, stories they had been hearing since they were babies. Their favorite being the stories of genesis. Sara loved hearing about the garden of Eden, all of the animals that Adam and Eve got to name, all of the fruit they got to eat. Nothing like the dirty work Sara had to do on the farm. She remembers when she and Tegan were small, and they went around the property, renaming all the animals, all the cattle, the horses, even the pigs, naming them nonsensical things only little kids could. 

Eve was stupid for ruining their paradise. If it was her and Tegan, she would make sure that they lived there forever. Her mother says it’s not about things like that, but Sara doesn't care. 

“Can we read about Cain and Abel again?” Tegan asks. 

Sara grumbled. “I don’t like that story.”

“Well, it’s an important story.” Her mother flipped through her bible, it’s leather cover worn out and falling apart at its edges. Tegan was settled by her side, leaning her head on her shoulder so she could get a better look at the pages. 

Sara watched from her side of the couch, looking between her mother, who patted Tegan on the head, fingers combing through her short hair, and looking at Tegan, who was relaxed. More relaxed than she ever looked just the two of them.

Her mother read the story, about how Abel was faithful and loved by God and Cain who’s offerings were refused. How eventually he was so jealous he killed his own brother. But he couldn’t hide his sin from God and was cursed. 

Sara hated this story. How could somebody kill their brother? She wondered what it would be like to be Cain. Truthfully it didn’t sound too bad. God would protect her, his mark punishing anyone who harmed her. The only thing that would be bad about it is Tegan would be gone. Maybe that’s why Cain wasn’t killed, because a life without his brother would be worse than death. Sara felt lonely for him. 

She thought God punishing him by making him feel the loss of Abel was a better story, but her mother told her it was so Cain could go on to have kids more evil than he. Some of these stories were just awful. 

One evening, on the rare evening their father let them in the study, they were on the floor coloring, a stack of paper between them. Sara’s lines came out jagged because of the wooden floor, but she didn’t mind. This was one of her favorite times, when their father sat at his desk, reading about agriculture, jotting notes down and she and Tegan sat peacefully in his presence. 

Sara was still thinking about Cain and Abel. Sometimes she felt sick thinking about it. She drew what she thought Abel was like, an innocent-looking person, somebody who was adored. She drew Cain. He had to be somebody awful, but maybe somebody you could feel bad for, somebody who just wanted to be loved. She looked down at Abel who was smiling with rosy cheeks, crudely drawn with shaky lines but Sara knew who he was. She got a red crayon, dragging it across Abel, scratching out his face and body until he had disappeared under the messy scrawl. 

Tegan looked up from her drawing, frowning. “What are you being so harsh for?”

Sara dropped the crayon. “He was messing up the picture.”

Tegan watched her with bewilderment before continuing her own.

“What are you drawing?” Sara asked. 

“Emy.”

Sara paused, her neck prickling with hot needles. “Why?”

Tegan shrugged. She laid out on her belly, her legs propped up while she drew. “I’m drawing her with a bow and arrow. Next time I see her, I’ll give her one and we can teach her how to hunt.”

“There won’t be a next time.”

Tegan eyed her, thinking about that, then looked up to her father. “Pa, is that family with the automobile going to come over again?”

Stephen leaned back in his chair, looking down to where his daughters were, almost like he had just noticed they were there. “Well,” He sighed. “I guess it’s possible. I don’t know how soon though.”

Tegan smiled. “Well, that’ll just give me enough time to make the bow perfect.”

“Are you also going to give her your cruddy arrows?” Sara asked, a snarl in her voice. 

Again, that scrutinizing look from Tegan. Usually, she had something to say, objected or pouted, but now she just ignored Sara, going back to drawing. 

Stephen looked between them, slight confusion on his features. 

“Sara, you can’t talk to your sister like that.”

Sara bit the inside of her bottom lip, feeling her teeth tear at it. “You like her, don’t you?”

Tegan didn’t look up from her drawing. “Well, I don’t know her that well.” 

“That doesn't mean you don’t like her.”

“I’ve never played with other kids before. That’s all.”

Stephen turned his chair around to face them. “There will be plenty of times in the future where you’ll meet kids your age.” 

“Really?” Tegan asked. 

“Sure. If you want, you could start coming into town with me, we could go to fairs where the crops are in better shape. There’ll be all sorts of opportunities.”

Tegan beamed. Sara wondered why her sister was so eager to leave when it was with their father, and not her. Stephen looked down at Sara. “That sounds nice, right Sara?” 

“I don’t care about other kids.” 

“You say that,” He mumbled, turning back to his work. 

Whatever. Tegan could go off and play with whatever kids she wanted to. Sara didn’t care. They had a pact, Tegan would always be hers. 

She got a new sheet of paper, angrily digging her crayon onto the surface. Greens and reds and pinks. Flowers and trees and lush grass and two people holding hands in the middle of it all, covered with leaves. No serpents and no fruits they were not allowed to touch. 

She flushed when she realized what she had drawn, peeking up at Tegan to see if she noticed but she was either too immersed in her own drawing or just plain ignoring her. Her first instinct was to hide it, to rip it up, color over it, but she was strangely proud of her work. 

She had forgotten she even drew it, days rolling by before her mother reminded her of its existence. 

Sonia was in her room when Sara entered, worn out and slacks covered in bits of hay from when she and Tegan were helping their father feed the horses. 

Sonia held a box on her lap, her fingers tracing over the wood. Sara recognized it as the box she used to keep her pictures. 

“What are you…” Sara clutched at her shirt, her heart rolling in her chest for some reason. 

“Your father has been hiding liquor around the house so I thought to look in your room just in case he was so spineless as to hide it here. Instead, I found this.”

“Those are my drawings. You can’t just look through my things.” Though there was no conviction in her voice. 

“Sara, what are these?” She rifled through the stack until she found one. “What is this supposed to be?”

She and Tegan, embracing in Eden. The room started to simmer. “Who cares, it’s just a drawing. What’s wrong with it?” She bit her lip, hoping that would stop it from trembling. 

“I didn’t say anything was wrong with it.” Sonia looked at her curiously before pulling out another. “It’s just I’ve never seen them before. This is you and Tegan right?” She showed one to Sara. 

Cautiously she said, “Yes.”

“Cute,” Her mother murmured, though there was no life to it. It felt like a bite. “You know,” she began, seemingly lost in thought before she continued, “you two aren’t always going to be together. There’s going to be a time where you’re going to have to separate.” 

Sara narrowed her eyes. “Why are you telling me this?” 

“It’s just the truth.” She then patted the spot next to her, urging Sara to join her side. Sara didn’t want to. She was put off by the whole situation, how tired her mother looked, how lifeless she sounded. That’s just how she was lately. But, she obeyed, sitting down as far she could from her on the bed. Her mother said, “I’ve been worried about you two. Especially you.”

“Why, what’s wrong with me?” Sara refused to look at her mother, instead, focusing on her socked feet against the wood floor, her baggy slacks practically swallowing them whole. 

“Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re just slow at growing up. I’ve begun to think that your father and I failed you somehow,” She sighed, playing with the edges of the drawing in her hands. Sara wanted to grab it out of her hands. “When I was your age, I was attending school with other girls. I was thinking about my future.”

“You teach us so well though.”

“I teach you practical things, sure, but what about the world? What about people?” Then, “You and your sister need each other right now but you won’t get far clinging to each other forever. How would you find a husband?”

“Do I have to get married?”

Sonia contemplated this. “Not if you don’t want to. You might fall in love someday though, and want to get married.”

Sara frowned. “I don’t want to get married. I bet Tegan doesn't either.”

“You can’t really help it if your sister falls in love. That’s why it’s so important to realize that you’re separate people that need separate lives. Most people don’t need to learn this lesson, but God made you twins so it’s different for you.” Sara didn’t want this. She didn’t want to think about Tegan leaving her behind for some stupid boy. She would never leave Tegan, so why would she leave Sara? 

“Being a kid is confusing,” Her mother said. “So is growing up. You can’t cling to your sister and expect things to be okay.” Then she held up another drawing, her and Tegan lying and looking up at the night sky, an angel looking over them. “You know you and your sister can’t be like Adam and Eve right?”

“I know,” Sara muttered. 

“Do you?” She looked down at the drawing. “They were lovers, you know what that is right?”

Sara nodded, not sure if she did. 

“Me and your father are lovers. So were Adam and Eve.”

“Me and Tegan love each other,” Sarra brought up meekly. 

“You and Tegan can’t be lovers.”

“Well, why not? We love each other.”

“Sara, it's against the Bible. It’s a sin to lie with another woman.”

A woman, that was the first time Sara had even considered that they were women. 

“Not to mention you’re sisters. Siblings can’t be like this.”

“What about Adam and Eve?”

“What about them?”

“They had kids. Brothers and sisters who became husband and wife.”

“That was then, this is now. You and Tegan can’t start a family.”

Sara thought about this. Was that what it meant to be lovers? To start families? 

Sonia sighed. “You'll forget about foolish things like this right? And think about what I’ve said?”

Sara shrugged. “If you want me to.”

“Good.” Her mother cradled her cheek in her hand, but it felt cold. Disconnected. Sonia put the drawings back in the box, setting it back on the ground and sliding it under the bed where she had found it. “I only want what’s best for you,” She said, and the words rolled around in Sara’s head, not knowing what they meant. 

Later that night when they were supposed to be sleeping, Sara was wide awake, thinking about what her mother had said. The idea that Tegan would leave her, find a husband, have kids. Live happily ever without her... She could barely stand to think about it. 

She felt ill, her stomach turning. She rolled around all night, trying to fall asleep, but it was no use. She realized she was in more pain than she thought, her stomach uncomfortable. Then wetness. Something wet against her bloomers. Panic hit as she quickly rolled out of bed, trying not to disturb Tegan, and ran into the bathroom. There, she found exactly what she feared. 

She wasn’t supposed to cry, she was different from Tegan, stronger. She peeked into her shorts again, cringing at the speckled blood, discolored and strange, not like any of the blood she had seen, not the blood that decorated her scratches or scrapes when fighting with Tegan and not the red stuff that oozed out of the animals they caught. 

It made her sick, and tears streamed down her face, a tickle irritating her throat. “No,” She mumbled. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” Her hands turned into shaky fists as she stood there in the bathroom, avoiding her reflection. 

She took deep breaths, not knowing how long she stood in the bathroom before the tears on her face had dried up leaving trails of burning skin. When she did finally look at herself in the mirror, she was almost shocked by her appearance, how pink and blotted with red her face was, how her eyes shined like pools. She even saw how flushed her chest was, how it made what little of her breasts stand out more. _So this is what she was_. How come it felt so strange? 

She cleaned herself up, doing so with quiet dignity, then pulled the towels out. 

When she returned to the bedroom, she stopped at the doorway, looking at Tegan, who had her back turned. Tegan was a bad liar, even when she wasn’t talking. She crawled into bed, seeing how Tegan tried hard not to move. 

“Tegan? Are you awake?”

Tegan grumbled. “Sort of,” She tiredly replied. Sara was glad she wasn’t going to fake being asleep so she didn’t have to talk to her. “You woke me up a little.”

Sara rolled over so she could hold onto her, her arms and leg wrapping around her body despite her sister's weak protests. “What are you doing?” Tegan asked. 

“It’s okay, right? This makes me feel better.”

“But it’s hot,” Tegan complained. 

“We don’t have to leave,” Sara mumbled into the other girl’s shoulder. “We can stay here, for as long as we like. Forever even.” 

Tegan was quiet, no longer squirming in her sister’s grasp. Sara held onto a wrist she found, feeling how slim it was, and traced her fingers up to the girl’s knuckles, soft skin over hard bone. 

“You don’t make any sense sometimes,” Tegan said softly. 

“It’s probably because I’m growing up,” Sara said, her voice hiding behind the dejection she felt when she said those words. “Turning into a woman,” she whispered. 

Then, in the quiet room, she asked, “Do you not want to share a bed anymore?”

Tegan shrugged. “We’re too big, right? Big girls don’t sleep with each other.”

“Is that what ma told you?”

“Well, it’s true isn’t it?”

“No. I don’t think so.” 

Sara wondered if her mother was tearing them apart. They were together in her womb, then apart outside of it, and now she was pushing them even further away. 

“I’m trying,” Sara said, her voice catching. “I’m trying to be better. Trying to be a nice person.”

Tegan was still in her grasp. Her voice came cautious. “You’re nice,” She said. She didn’t sound all that believable to Sara. 

She shook her head against her sister’s back, not believing the words. “Tegan, I’m bad.”

“You know that’s not true.” 

She thought about Cain again. She wondered if he knew he was bad. “I know we’re growing up.” The words were hard to say, her need to cry again creeping up on her. “But, I need you. You’re the good one okay? Without you, I won’t have any good left in me.”

Tegan said nothing, but she did hold onto the hand that was wrapped around her, holding it gently, a reassuring touch. Sara let herself relax more against Tegan, feeling sensitive to her sister’s touch. 

After a while of Sara sniffling against her, Tegan asked, “Do you want to pray?”

Sara shook her head. “No,” She said, muffled against Tegan’s nightgown. “Just don’t leave my side.” 

And that night, Tegan didn’t. 


	3. Chapter 3

When Sonia rose from bed, the sun was just barely peeking over the valley, it’s shiny rays covered in the early morning dawn. She looked down at her husband who was slumbering peacefully, and felt a prickle of affection before shaking it away. She smoothed over his wild brown hair, played with his beard, some greys poking out, before she left his side.

She dressed in the darkness of their room, slipping out of her nightgown into her day clothes, combing the knots out of her hair carefully. She looked at herself in the vanity’s mirror as she did every morning, taking notice of her sagging eyes, the blots of grey skin, her thinning hair. Had it all gotten worse? 

In the kitchen she starts the stove, letting it warm the room before opening the curtains in the dining area just adjacent, the sun higher than before, more brilliant. Stepping outside, the fresh dew on the grass greets her, just as the warmth of a new day, and she hurries to the barn, knowing not to dawdle before Stephen and the children wake up. 

There in the barn, she rolls up her sleeves to milk the cow. Opal is obedient and still for her. She smiles at this, knowing that Stephen had made her fussy when he tried to milk her. She had given birth not too long ago, and became nervous around them, but warmed up to Sonia. It’s a nice little victory.

Washing her hands, and leaning the pale against her hip, she makes her way back to the house. On her way she sees an astray flower in the long grass, a dahlia, orange and freshly sprouted. She was not one for fancy accessories or flashy clothing but the flower caught her eye and feeling in some type of mood that morning, she picked it, setting the stem over her ear so the bright pedals decorated her hair. Maybe she would pick some for Tegan and Sara later. 

In the house she started on breakfast knowing the sound of sizzling ham would help Stephen rise for the day. Sure enough it wasn’t long before she heard the floor creaking, Stephens boots sliding against the wood floor. 

“Mornin,” he mumbled against a yawn, buttoning the last button on his shirt.

“Good morning,” she replied pleasantly, turning to give him all her attention. She watched as he fell into his chair at the table, already reaching for the pale so he could begin to strain the milk.

Soon the girls clambered from down the hall. Sonia studies them carefully, taking note of how strangely somber they seemed, how Sara looked deflated by her sister’s side.

“You two sleep okay?” She asked, trying to keep her tone light. 

Sara shrugged, her finger tracing the lines of the wooden table. 

“It’s too hot,” Tegan mumbled. “Can we open the window at night?”

“You know you can’t. Do you want critters breaking in?”

Tegan slumped over the table.

Stephen, still focused on straining the milk spoke without taking his bored eyes off his task. “Girls, go get some eggs won’t you? You know that’s your chore.”

“I already went to the pen.” Sonia said.

Stephan looked up in surprise. “You did?”

“I had some extra time on my hands.”

Stephen didn’t say anything, just mumbled under his breath, sounding slightly impressed. 

When the breakfast was cooked and all were gathered at the table, she set all their glasses up, pouring them each a glass of milk. 

“Thanks mom,” the girls said.

she smiled dimly, sitting down and feeling the quiet, the only noise the forks scraping against their plates.

...

“Still think mom’s gonna leave?” Tegan asked as they sat by the creek, makeshift fishing poles in their hands. “She seemed awfully chipper this morning.”

Sara watched the clear water, the pebbles underneath. 

“She was wearing a flower in her hair,” Tegan added, almost proudly.

Sara frowned, remembering that morning, how her mother didn’t even seem like the same person. It didn’t seem real. “Dad didn’t even notice,” she pointed out.

“Well, it didn’t seem to bother her.”

Sara shook her head. “You’re horrible at reading adults.”

Rolling her eyes Tegan said,” just because you think you’re a grown up doesn’t mean you know everything about them.” 

“I don’t think I’m a grown up,” she murmured embarrassed. 

“Well at the very least you seem to look down on us kids.” 

Sara looked from the creek to her sister, who was diligently looking for any fish that might slither by.

“You really don’t think she’s going to leave huh?”

“I’m not sure why you do.”

Sara bit her tongue. She promised herself not to ruffle tegans feathers lately, a task much harder than she expected. Instead, she changed the subject. 

“Our birthdays are coming up.”

“Yep.”

“You excited?”

“Yeah.” and then, “I think dads going to take us to the fair. You know, if we’re good.”

Sara resisted a scowl that rugged at her lips. “Why do you want to play with other kids anyway? Am I not enough?”

Tegan only laughed. “You really don’t understand kids. Kids want to play with other kids, simple as that.”

This time Sara did scowl. “If you stop playing with me I’ll never forgive you.” 

At that point Tegan faces her, her hazel eyes radiant in the sun, so much so that Sara had to swallow hard to relieve her dry throat. 

“I know you just talk tough,” Tegan said calmly. “You can’t keep saying mean stuff and then cry about it later.”

Sara blushed, a mortifying heat warming her cheeks. Before she could retort, something scathing on the tip of her tounge, she felt a tug.

“Oh,” Tegan mumbled, surprised. “You got a bite.”

Sara could care less about the fish at the moment but seeing the quiet wonder in her sister’s eyes she carefully lifted her pole up, one hand holding onto the string she had attached to it, and lifted the pole, really just a tree branch, until the fish was out of the water, wildly flapping and shaking. It was just a small thing, but silver and white, and wild.

“You actually caught one!” Tegan gleamed, watching the fish with elation. 

“What do I do with it?”

Tegan grabbed onto the fish with both hands, careful, more careful than Sara was used to seeing from Tegan. “You unhook it,” She said, demonstrating by taking the hook out of its mouth, “And then throw it back in the water.” 

Tegan lifted the fish up so Sara could take another look at her catch. “What’s the point?” She asked, watching Tegan struggle to keep the thing from slipping out her grasp.

“It’s just fun.”

Sara watched the fish once before nodding to Tegan, giving her permission to let the fish go. They both watched it flop back into the creek and swim away. Tegan giggled, wiggling her hands before emerging them in the cold water. “It felt so weird,” She said in awe. “Next time you have to touch it.” 

“No thanks,” Sara said. “You can handle them.” Her sister grinned. “Are you grossed out by them or something?”

“You clearly like them a whole lot more than I do. I’d rather watch you play with it.”

“Come one, it’s just like hunting.”

“Hunting, you actually get to keep what you catch.”

Tegan sombered at that. “I guess.”

Sara rolled her eyes at how quickly Tegan’s fire went out. At this point it was instinct to shoot her sister down. “I liked it still,” Sara added. “Just not the fish part. I liked sitting with you.”

Tegan smiles. And Sara once again felt her throat go dry. 

...

It was dark when Sonia sat down to sigh. 

Shadows traced the house as warm lights softly glowed. Stephan was already in the room they shared, reading the bible as he did before bed, and the girls were sleeping. Or were supposed to. It was hard to keep track of what misbehaving those two were up to these days. She remembered being their age. Almost thirteen, entering the cusp of womanhood. She felt that little girl she used to be wasn’t even her, just some far away stranger. She shouldn’t lament, she scolded herself. It’s a child’s job to grow up. 

In her lap was an old photo book. One well taken care of despite it’s history of being passed down family to family. She flipped through the pages, seeing family long forgotten posing in elegant clothes just for a nice picture. There are only two photos of Sonia that exist, two other pieces of proof of her existence. The family portrait where she was a flush yet awkward girl, her face far too serious as she stood amongst her family, her mother, grandmother, father, all people no longer here, and the other. The one of a young woman in college, a faint smile on her face, her hazel eyes still seeming to show up in the black and white photography. She traced her smile, the one from years ago. 

“What are you up to?”

She startled, looking up at a gruff Stephan. He walked into the living room in his pajamas, eyes squinting and hair unkempt. 

“I was just going through this old thing, that’s all. What’s wrong, couldn't sleep?”

Stephan scratched at her stomach through the flannel shirt. “Well I was waiting for you.”

Sonia nodded, her gaze falling to the book again.

Stephen watched her for a minute before yawning. “Come to bed. It’s late.”

His wife hummed before closing the book. “You’re right,” She conceded. 

He waited for her to put the book back on the shelf, a lonely shelf with just the photo book and a couple bibles, as well as a textbook Sonia had kept from her school about agriculture. She joined him and they walked down the hall back to their room. When they were in bed Stephen cleared his throat before saying, “We should get one as well.”

“Get what?” Sonia asked as clicked her lamp off. 

“A picture taken. One with the girls.”

“You would want to?”

“It would be nice, don’t you think so?”

She smiled, a little one, and really she was the only one who knew she was smiling as it was too dark for Stephan to see her face.

“Yes,” She whispered into the dark. “I think that’s a wonderful idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think, if you want more, etc. This story is loosely based off of Steinbeck's East of Eden, specifically the story of the brothers; Cal and Aron. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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